From the heights we leap and go
To the valleys down below
Always answering to the call
To the lowest place of all
From the heights we leap and go
To the valleys down below
Sweetest urge and sweetest will
To go lower, lower stillHannah Hurnard, Hinds’ feet on high places
Our culture values upward mobility. Driven by commerce and the media people in the Western world strive for a bigger paycheck, a better car, a larger house, a nicer office, more possessions, a more powerful place on the corporate ladder, and more status. More is better, bigger is better, higher is better, seems to be the message. A not so subtle form of the Social Darwinist claim that we should always be evolving promotes the message ‘be all you can be.’ In the movies of Walt Disney this quickly becomes ‘reach for the stars’ and ‘dare to dream big.’ The mentality in Western culture has become ‘have all you can have, get all you can get and reach everything you can reach.
This culture is pervasive, and it has invaded the church. There is little difference in the pursuits of people outside of the church, and people inside. But was it God’s intention that his people should always be moving upward? Not in Paul’s idea. In his letter to the Philippians he encourages them to follow the example of Christ. In the incarnation Christ modelled downward rather than upward mobility.
In this paper I want to look closely at the famous passage Philippians 2:4-11. Paul’s encouragement is to have the same attitude as Christ Jesus. What lessons might be drawn with regards to downward mobility?
Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death –
even death on a cross!Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.
The largest journey ever made, the most amazing trajectory ever travelled, was the distance between heaven and earth, deity and humanity, life and death, as traversed by Jesus. There can be no greater example of downward mobility than the son of God becoming man, and this man dying on a cross. The incarnation is the ultimate example possible of downward mobility.
General comments
Perhaps two introductory and general comments need to be made regarding this passage. Since it references both the nature of Jesus as divine being as well as the nature of Jesus as human being, this passage plays a role in the debate regarding how those two natures relate to each other. I have no wisdom to offer on this point, other than that it seems to me that this passage does not infer that Jesus was not divine while on earth. In my mind this passage creates no problem with the understanding that Jesus was both God and man while on earth.
The other question raised regarding this passage is the question of authorship. The common view seems to be that this was some sort of hymn the early church sang, quoted by Paul. N.T. Wright disagrees. He suggests that Paul wrote the passage himself, as it ‘dovetails so neatly with chapter 3 on so many levels.’
The intentional nature of the incarnation
When I told a leader in my community I was writing a paper on downward mobility her immediate response was: “I have a number of clients who can say a few choice words on the subject.” She works in public service, helping people who have lost their income. Her ‘clients’ are people who claim welfare. Many of them attempt to defraud the Dutch government by not declaring income or other benefits they are enjoying. Her list of clients is growing: the current economic climate is forcing many below the line of poverty. Downward mobility is not an unfamiliar concept these days.
But downward mobility as a result of economic misfortune is a forced form of such mobility. Jesus’ example, however, is based entirely on his decision to do so. Paul does not write that Jesus was demoted or released from the deity, but rather that ‘he made himself nothing,’ ‘he took the very nature of a servant’, and ‘he humbled himself.’ In calling us to have the mind of Christ (NKJV and ASV), or having the attitude of Christ Jesus (NIV and NLT), Paul invites us to voluntary downward mobility.
Who is not here?
In a recent conversation on this subject Robert Calvert, pastor of the Scottish Church in Rotterdam, helped me understand the motivation to become downwardly mobile. The motivation stems from the realization that some who should be here, are in fact not here. The journey down, to quote Wes White, starts when one looks around the room, and asks the question Who is not here?
Let me explain. In Calvert’s understanding people run the risk in any group to become satisfied or complacent with our group. When we enter a new group of people we try hard to understand the common frame of mind this group shares. But after a while we come to accept the assumptions we make about the group, and accept them as truth. After sufficient time has gone by we stop asking questions regarding inclusion and exclusion all together. These assumptions explain both why the ones who are part of this group are part of this group, while the ones who are not part of the group are not.
"The journey down… starts when one looks around the room, and asks the question Who is not here?"
In looking around the room and asking the question who is not here? we challenge the assumptions we share about our group. We question the status quo, and realize there are reasons why those who are not here should in fact be here. Our reasons for previously excluding them often have to do with some form of pride; we tell ourselves ‘they don’t fit in’ or ‘they don’t meet our expectations’. Once we get past this, we realize that an incursion will have to be made into foreign territory to invite those previously excluded. This is where downward mobility starts.
I think this is precisely what happens in the incarnation. If the relationship between the three persons of the Trinity can be described as a dance, as Orthodox Christianity does in describing perichoresis, Jesus leaves the dance as Paul describes in v. 6 precisely because three persons of the trinity have ‘looked around the room and asked themselves ‘who is not here?’, and they have decided to act on this. Their desire is to bring mankind into their dance, and in order to do that an journey into foreign territory will have to be made, so as to make those not part of the dance previously, now part of the dance.
Mother Theresa is a current-day shining example of this. Her effort is solely aimed at making those not wanted, wanted.
Malcolm: What exactly are you doing for these dying people? I know you bring them in to die there. What is it you are doing for them, or are seeking to do for them?
Mother Theresa: First of all we want to make them feel that they are wanted; we want them to know there are people who really love them, who really want them, at least for the few hours they have to live, to know human and divine love. That they too may know they are the children of God and that they are not forgotten and that they are loved and cared about and there are young lives ready to give themselves in their service.
Lower still
There seems to be a two tier process to Jesus’ downward mobility. First, Paul describes how Jesus relinquished his divine nature and equality to God, and became a human being. Then, once he is human, the second part of the process sets in, in which he humbles himself before mankind, becoming a servant before them, and allowing himself even to be crucified. It is almost as if the text allows for the reader to think ‘And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself – again. Or ‘once more’.
This speaks to me. On those rare occasions where I have voluntarily chosen to humble myself, I doubt I have thought to myself: “OK, now how can I humble myself even further?” Yet this seems to be precisely what Jesus did. He travels from the one far end of the spectrum, where he is part of the trinity and equal with God the father, to the far other end of the spectrum, where he is put to death as the worst kind of person, a traitor crucified on a cross. The words Paul writes to the Galatians echo here: “Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree.” (Deuteronomy 21:23; Gal. 3:13).
My own desire for upward mobility rather than downward mobility notwithstanding, having Christ’s attitude would make us want to ‘go lower, lower still,’ as Hannah Hurnard writes in her water song. A community that has this attitude could be said to engage in a spiritual limbo-dance, cheering each other on: “how low can you go?”
Strong imagery
Two images speak strongly to me from this passage in Philippians. The first is that Jesus did not consider equality with God something to be grasped. The image of hands grasping something, or conversely, letting go, is powerful to me. In Crossroads Rotterdam we make much of this image. We teach our people to live ‘with open hands.’ Open hands can receive blessing when it comes. They do not claim, seek control, force or keep. Paul highlights Jesus’ attitude, implicating that Jesus lives with open hands. This image becomes clearer when we look at the cross, where his hands were nailed to the wood in the ultimate release.
"So much of our striving for upward mobility seems to be driven by the desire to fill a sense of emptiness we sense within ourselves."
The other image is that of Jesus emptying himself. V. 7 reads Jesus ‘made himself nothing,’ but this could also be translated (as the ASV) does as ‘he emptied himself.’ The Greek word underlying this text is ‘kenoo’ which means ‘to make void or empty’ or ‘to make of no effect.’ For this passage has become known as the kenosis passage: the passage which describes Jesus emptying himself out.
This is another powerful image to me. So much of our striving for upward mobility seems to be driven by the desire to fill a sense of emptiness we sense within ourselves. This is at least true for much of my personal striving. Yet here is Jesus, who seeks the emptiness rather than the fullness. As we see in the confrontation with Satan in the desert (Luke 4:3) he is content with emptiness.
What does emptying oneself entail? If we are to think about ourselves as Christ thought of himself (v. 4, The Message), how do we do that?
A few things come to mind. One is that we can of course give materially. We can give time. We can give energy. This is the first thing most people think of. Most churches teach on giving, or rather, teach on stewardship. In the course of such teaching people learn to give substantially. Some learn to tithe. But is this emptying ourselves?
I would suggest it probably is not. Most teaching on stewardship teaches people to give from the margins of their lives. They may learn to give substantial, and sacrifice may be involved: at least in the congregation I lead few people can easily miss 10% of their monthly income. Yet what Jesus did, was to give all. He did not give from the margins of his life – He emptied himself out. There was nothing left when he was done. His words to the rich young ruler come to mind: “go away, and give everything you have to the poor, and then come back and follow me.”
Recently I have toyed with this concept in Crossroads Rotterdam. Of course I teach on stewardship. I teach that it would be good for people to give a significant portion of their income away: doing so liberates us and it allows the work of the Kingdom to continue. But the idea I have been playing with is this: maybe I should tell the people that at least once in their life-time, they should give away everything they have, and follow God’s call – if not for a lifetime, than at least for a season.
Most people (myself included) tend to think they can have Christ’s attitude precisely because we never think such an extreme possibility will become a reality. We imagine ourselves great hero’s as long as no one calls on us. Reality however sets in when we start considering seriously giving everything away.
I have been reading about Mother Theresa recently. If anyone in my lifetime ever embodied Paul’s description of Jesus, it would probably be her. Her example is amazing – and it helps me realize how completely unattainable Paul’s charge to us in Philippians is to me.
Make us worthy?
In his book Something Beautiful for God Malcolm Muggeridge describes meeting Mother Teresa in Calcutta. He arrives there to make a documentary for the BBC about her work. As soon as she meets him she invites him to accompany her to the chapel. There they both kneel to pray. Her prayer, which she later writes out in a booklet she gives him, is this:
Make us worthy, Lord, to serve our fellow men throughout the world who live and die in poverty and hunger.
Make us worthy? To us living in Western Europe this seems like a strange prayer. Yet Paul’s song of Jesus’ downward mobility sits in the context of a letter written to a community that is starting to feel persecution. The author of the letter writes about his hardship, and in the process even wonders if he will survive: both life and death hold merit to him (1:20). Then he writes his audience that they, too, have been granted ‘not only to believe on Christ – but also to suffer for him’ (1:29). Paul’s charge to them to follow Christ and perhaps go the lower road – even to death is not an unlikely thing! For them persecution, which might include being stripped of possessions, or being captured for slavery or imprisonment, and even death) was a real possibility. And in the middle of that Paul says what Mother Theresa prays: to serve Christ in such a manner means you have been found worthy in some sort of way. There is a worthiness that is involved in following Christ on the lower road. I wonder if by and large the church in the West has not been found worthy to follow Christ in this manner because we serve God from the margins of our life, instead with all of it.
And then, as I think about this again, I run into the impossibility of really answering this invitation. I cannot follow Christ like that! Giving some – for sure! Giving all – no way! My desire to maintain myself, protect myself, my desire for luxury stand in the way.
Perhaps that is what the disciples felt too, after Jesus was finished with the rich young ruler: “who then, can be saved?” Jesus answer both respected their incredulity and lifted the bar of their faith. “With men this is not possible. With God all things are possible.” Maybe I should echo Mother Theresa’s prayer: “Lord, make me worthy…”
Obedience
What strikes me further is the reference to obedience (v. 8). In our culture we have lost most of our understanding of what obedience means. The term rarely falls in discussions about parenting. We speak of respecting management rather than obeying leaders. Richard Forster writes that the idolatry of today is the worship of power. We do not learn service when we crave influence and power. We regard ourselves and each other as educated, free thinking and empowered, and react in a hostile manner to the very thought of obedience. This isn’t the middle ages!
Two ladies in my community illustrated this recently. They returned from a holiday in the Himalayas of Nepal. Originally their party was supposed to consist of 14 Westerners. But 12 cancelled, leaving only Hester and Erika to go on the trip. Yet the tour operator had organized a company of 7 Nepali companions, consisting of 6 carriers and 1 cook. So off they went into the mountains.
Never once did my two friends feel unsafe in the company of these men. But they did feel uncomfortable! Because these 7 gentlemen asked permission frequently, and sought their leadership at every turn – even though these ladies had never visited this part of the world while these men lived there. As Hester said: “it felt so colonial and so wrong. Yet these men could not operate in another way.”
Another illustration of this comes from Mother Theresa. She made her vows to God and the church, and simply obeys – never questioning. She cannot relate to Malcolm Muggeridge’s questions regarding the political role of the church, nor the church’s involvement in scandals. It simply doesn’t enter her mind to question the reigning authority structures! Her call is simply to obey.
Obedience is a form of downward mobility. We submit to the will and leadership of a force outside of us, and at that point our opinion simply ceases to matter. Jesus became obedient – and obedient to death! To take seriously Jesus’ example means that we must learn to obey. We have to learn not to be involved in the decision making process. We have to learn to be OK with not having been asked for input. We need to learn to accept orders and carry them out without complaining or questioning. A Dutch saying says one has sit quietly when being shorn. Isaiah says Jesus was led like a lamb to the slaughter – without opening his mouth (Isaiah 53:7).
What happens in downward mobility?
How might we become downwardly mobile? Here are some examples I have heard of people pursuing an initiative that might be described as downwardly mobile.
I heard a story recently of a group of people who purposefully put their caucasian children in all-black schools in Rotterdam. In most Dutch cities the innercities consist almost entirely of coloured people. Most inner-city schools are describes as ‘black schools;’ this refers to the absence of any white Dutch children. These schools lag behind notoriously, not only in test scores, but also in facilities, equipment, emotional development and use of new technologies. They have the poorest teachers and the highest truancy rates. Purposefully inserting your white children into such a school in the hope to make a difference, just when your last white neighbours are leaving for the suburbs, might be described as downward mobility.
"Purposefully inserting your white children into such a school in the hope to make a difference, just when your last white neighbours are leaving for the suburbs, might be described as downward mobility."
Another example is when middle-class people move from the suburbs to the city centre when their entire middle-class has left the innercity, and our city centres have become urban jungles.
Downward mobility is when a well-paid professional decide to only work two days a week in a paid profession, so they can invest the rest of his time in a volunteer role.
What happens in downward mobility? Whether downward mobility is forced or voluntary, a number of things change when we become downwardly mobile.
Our social status changes. We loose a degree of respect. We exchange honour for shame. We cease to be the centre of attention, and are moved to the outside of the party, or worse, excluded from the party. The message we receive changes from ‘you are so desirable’ to ‘you are not wanted, not welcome.’
Jesus experienced this in every way. He willingly let go of the honour due to his totally superior role in the universe, and became a criminal spat on by religious and self-righteous people! Not only did he release his grasp on equality to God, he embraced his humanity. When tempted by Satan to turn stones to bread his response was “man shall not live by bread alone,” and ‘you shall not put your God to the test.” In this he clearly demonstrated he thought of himself as a human, and not one equal to God.
Our power changes. When we become downwardly mobile we loose power. Jesus was quite clear about this: “I can do nothing without the Father.” When Pilate asserted his power over Jesus, Jesus did not claim personal power over Pilate, but rather explained to Pilate the source of Pilate’s power: “you would have no power over me, if it were not given you from above” (John 19:11). Jesus’ answer makes clear he realizes himself to be in the power of this Roman governor.
It was not until after he was resurrected that he asserted: “all power in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” Downward mobility means we willingly release control, influence and power over things and people. The further we become downwardly mobile, the more powerless we become.
Downward mobility also means our wealth decreases. From being the Lord who ‘owns the cattle on a thousand hills’ Jesus becomes a slave – owned property himself.
Identity and loneliness
It should be pointed out that one thing does not change in downward mobility. However low we go, it never changes who we are. Our identity is solidly locked up in our relationship to the Father. Our identity is that we are his children – and this does not change, however low we can go.
Throughout his time on earth Jesus knew perfectly well he was still the son of the father. Even as his crucifixion was coming closer, he spoke comfortably of his close relationship with His Father. The prayer in John 17 is a good example of this: may they be one as you and I are one.
A profound understanding of this relationship with our Heavenly Father is very important. The journey down is a lonely journey. Robert Calvert reminded me of this recently. It certainly was for Jesus. This must have been part of his ‘emptying out.’ In giving up on the equality with God he gives up on living in the very presence of the Father. His existence of earth must have been lonely, given that no one really understand who he was or what he was hoping to achieve. Then his friends betray him and leave him, and finally God leaves him.
Downward Mobility entails loneliness. Moving down rather than up goes against the spirit of the age in the 21st century. Downward mobility has a prophetic nature to it; prophets stand out because they stand against the spirit of the age. Downward mobility has a prophetic quality to it – and rarely is a prophet honoured for what he or she says.
As we make the journey down we wrestle, as Robert Calvert helped me see, not only with the pressure from without, but also with the pressure from within. Our fight is not only with the spiritual powers at work in the world, but also with our personal demons. We struggle with a desire for recognition, comfort, honour and peace of mind.
Our loneliness also stems from the fact that downward mobility is a cross-cultural experience. We traverse from the circles where we naturally belong, to circles where we do not normally come. Jesus left the realm of the Father to join the realm of the physical. Cross-cultural experiences create loneliness: we feel out of place in our new environment. We do not belong. It takes time for us to develop relationships there. Frequently we experience rejection – precisely because people feel we come from better places, and they feel inferior. They are likely to feel that our effort to relate to them is condescending. Rightly or wrongly they may presume pride and arrogance on our part. Certainly Jesus experienced all these emotions. If he is our example we should only expect that our intentions will be misunderstood.
In such times we should know that the Father loves us, and that we ultimately belong to him. It is He who holds us, watches over us, cares for us in all circumstances, and gives us the strength to carry on.
Upward mobility follows downward mobility
No discussion of the downward mobility of Philippians 2:4-11 would be complete without drawing attention to the upward mobility of verses 9-11 that follow Jesus’ downward mobility. Throughout scripture God seems to especially enjoy those who humble themselves – and he seems to enjoy lifting those who humble themselves up. The more we humble ourselves, the more he seems to lift us up. Paul may have described Jesus’ downward mobility as a two step process, but there is no intermediate stage in the way God exalts Jesus; it’s all the way from the bottom to all the way at the top.
Good news as this may be, there is a problem here. How do we keep humbling ourselves when we enjoy the blessing of God? Donald McGavran, often called the father of church growth theory observed a principle he called redemption-and-lift. It refers to a phenomenon that can often be observed, in which people upon becoming Christians experience an amount of upward mobility. Conversion to Christ often means people are introduced into a new circle of friends. They learn new skills, start developing character in areas that were difficult before. They may stop abusing alcohol. Patterns in their lives change, and they enjoy financial blessing as a result. Better housing, cars and schools may follow. A homeless person ceases to be part of the crowd on the street. A gang member leaves the gang and goes back to school or finds suitable employment. McGavran describes who those who might be the most effective evangelists among their former peers, simply leave their vicinity and loose touch. In this human economy of jobs and money and education and psychology, downward and upward mobility play a complex game together.
An end to the rebellion
Some authors have noticed the contrast between these verses in Philippians, and the passage in Isaiah 14:13,14. Those verses record Lucifer’s intention to raise himself to the same level as God.
“For thou has said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God; I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north, I will ascend above the heights of the clouds, I will be like the Most High. (Isa. 14:13, 14)
But the words that follow speak of his actual destiny: “Yet thou shalt be brought down to sheol, to the sides of the pit.” The contrast between these verses is as follows. Lucifer would go up, to the same level as God, but is brought down by the Most High. Jesus, conversely, chooses to go down, but is for that reason exalted. Some theologians call this the great parabola of scripture.
It is interesting to note that when Lucifer comes to Adam and Eve in the garden he sells them the same lie: ‘you can be like God.’ In accepting his lie they become part of his rebellion – and Jesus is the son of the Landowner in Matt. 21-45, sent to ask mankind to give up the rebellion. In this parable the tenants kill the son, thinking, “This is the heir. Come, let’s kill him and take his inheritance” (Matt. 21:38). What Jesus seems to be saying is that we are involved in a fight for supremacy. Lucifer thought he could be supreme – and we thought we could be supreme. The fact is we cannot, and we need to give up the rebellion. Rather than going up, we must choose to go down. Accepting Jesus as saviour is one thing, accepting him as Lord means we go make the journey down.
But this has important bearing on our discussion. It would comfortable to think that downward mobility is gift given to some; some, we might think, are endowed with a special grace to make that journey down. But we would miss an important fact: we have the choice to either go up or go down.
Our excuse for going up might be that we don’t think we have the gift of going down. But in choosing to go up we are in fact still buying into Lucifer’s lie.
Paul does not make downward mobility optional. He does not say ‘this is only for the Paul’s and the Francis of Assissi’s, and the mother Theresa’s of this world.’ He states it more universal than that: ‘you attitude should be like that of Christ Jesus…’
Our own interests versus the interests of others
Which brings me to my last observation on this passage. Verse 4 in the NIV reads ‘each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.’ This makes it sound like it is okay for a person to look after your own interest, provided you also look after the interests of others. But this is strange. Because right after that Paul states ‘our attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.’ The logic doesn’t hold up: Jesus did not look after his own interests at all. This raises the question if the word only should in fact be in the sentence. Should the verse not rather read: ‘each of you should look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.’ Than it makes sense that Paul follows this with highlighting the example of Jesus. Wes White confirms that the older manuscripts reflect this reading, and that in fact my reading here seems to be correct.
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